


Hathaway's Christmas

by Small_Hobbit



Series: Twelve More Days of Christmas [1]
Category: Lewis (TV)
Genre: Christmas, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-26
Updated: 2014-12-26
Packaged: 2018-03-03 16:35:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,036
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2857634
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Small_Hobbit/pseuds/Small_Hobbit
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>James Hathaway wanted a real Christmas</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hathaway's Christmas

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Kizzia](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kizzia/gifts).



> The first of my 12 Days of Christmas stories, written for Kizzia, who prompted "The real meaning of Christmas"

“James, you would be very welcome to join us for Christmas Day,” Robbie Lewis said.

“Thank you, I appreciate the offer, but, as you know, I’ll be working that day,” James Hathaway replied.

“You can come round afterwards. It’s not just me inviting you; Laura would be delighted if you came.”

“I know, and please thank her for the invitation. But the answer remains the same.”

“Okay, but if you change your mind, you’ve only got to say.”

James had the feeling Robbie expected he would be having a change of heart, but he knew he wouldn’t. James was sure that Laura would have decorated the house beautifully, that the Christmas dinner would be excellent and that he would enjoy spending time with the two of them, as he did whenever he went over for Sunday lunch. It was simply that it wouldn’t feel like a real Christmas.

So, instead, he was happy to be working, so that those who had young families, or elderly relatives, or any combination in between enjoyed their Christmas Day. He suspected that a number pitied him, but that didn’t bother him – he was used to being a bit of a loner and made his own preparations accordingly.

He had a small tree, which he decorated, and attached some further decorations to the ceiling. The cards went on the mantelpiece and finally he placed a few presents under the tree. He bought himself a chicken and, after careful consideration, a decent bottle of red wine.

On Christmas Eve, he was working in his office, when someone knocked on the door. DS Patel came in. Patel had recently come to the Oxford Constabulary and was working in another team, but with his inspector already on leave Hathaway had taken on the oversight of his work.

“I’m sorry to disturb you, sir,” Patel said, “but I wondered if you could have a look at this. It looks as if there may be a connection between these burglaries, but I don’t know the area well enough to be sure.”

“Of course,” Hathaway said. “Let me see.” After he had given the sergeant some further pointers he asked “Are you working tomorrow?”

“I’m on the morning shift.”

“Do you have plans for afterwards?”

“No sir. My family don’t celebrate Christmas as such.”

Hathaway thought the younger man looked sad. “Even so, I imagine you still miss them at this time. You’ve not been here long have you?”

“No. I had wondered about going home after the shift, but I’d need to drive back again the same day, as I’m working Boxing Day as well.”

“In which case, why don’t you join me? I have nothing planned.”

Patel looked slightly dubious and Hathaway thought that he might have heard that he was ‘religious’ and be uncertain as to what his motivations were, so he added “No catch, just a whole chicken I can’t possibly eat all by myself.”

“In which case, thank you sir, I’d like that.”

Shortly after their conversation Hathaway packed up, leaving the office promptly, as were many of the others. He exchanged Christmas wishes with them on his way out, before hurrying over to the Crib Service. He sat at the back of the church and enjoyed seeing the excitement of the children’s faces in the candlelight.

After the service he shook hands with Father Bernard. “Will you be joining us for Midnight Mass?” the priest asked him.

“Not this year,” Hathaway replied. “I’m on the early shift tomorrow, so I’ll get some sleep.”

“Of course. I shall wish you a peaceful day tomorrow then.”

***

The following morning Hathaway glanced down the list of those present and noted that DC Williams had not yet arrived, but that DC Jenkins was in, although she had not been on the original rota. He went into the office to find her.

“Good morning, Jenkins, I wasn’t expecting to see you today,” he began.

“No sir. I volunteered to come in at the last minute, because I knew we were short-staffed due to illness.”

“I thought you were going to your boyfriend’s for the holiday?”

Jenkins paused then said quietly, “We broke up two days ago. I thought as I was going to be on my own I might as well come to work and do something useful.”

“I’m sorry to hear that. But since you’re on your own, you’d be very welcome to join Sergeant Patel and myself to eat my chicken.”

“If you’re sure sir,” Jenkins smiled at him. “I don’t suppose you could use a Christmas pudding?” she added hopefully.

“Why not?” Hathaway answered. “That sounds like an excellent idea.”

At that moment Williams arrived. “I’m sorry I’m late, sir. My wife went into premature labour yesterday afternoon. They’re both okay, but they’re being kept in for a few days. I was sorting out everything I needed to take in for her and I didn’t realise the time.”

“Shouldn’t you be at the hospital with her?”

“Er, no, they’ve told me I can go back at 2pm. Is it okay if I finish work early?”

Hathaway laughed. “Of course it is. And Williams, after you’ve visited her, come round to my flat. You won’t have time to make yourself a Christmas dinner, so we’ll ensure there’s some left.”

***

That evening Hathaway was making coffee for everyone in his kitchen. He listened as Jenkins and Patel argued happily about the relative merits of the different Doctors, whilst Williams slept on the settee, the excitement of the previous evening and the delight at his new baby son having caught up with him. It hadn’t been the sort of Christmas Day that was depicted in the glossy magazines, and the presents weren’t the sort that were featured in television adverts – apart from Jenkins’ Christmas pudding, Patel had brought a couple of boxes of mince pies – but for Hathaway it had been a Christmas he had truly enjoyed.

He thought back to the crib scene at the service the previous evening and all the unexpected visitors there had been to the stable in Bethlehem, and smiled. There may not have been anything conventional about his Christmas Day, but there was nothing conventional about the first one either.


End file.
